


a well-kept not-secret

by fagstar



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Ableism, Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Post-DSMP Season 2 Finale, Tourette's Syndrome, Vulnerability, idk - Freeform, idk this is rlly self indulgent and also me kind of projecting onto c!tommy, kind of, kind of I guess?, kind of but not really, tics, tommy has tics in this one guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28994769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fagstar/pseuds/fagstar
Summary: for as long as he could remember, tommy'd had tics.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 20
Kudos: 382





	a well-kept not-secret

**Author's Note:**

> idk i just wanted to. warnings in the end notes.

For as long as Tommy could remember, he’d had tics. Sudden, involuntary movements or sounds. They were impossible to stop completely, and painful to suppress. But Tommy was lucky, because his tics were mostly easy to conceal.

A head jerk, bending his neck to touch his ear to his shoulder? Oh, he was just stretching. Blinking weirdly, one eye after the other? Something in his eye. Scrunching his face up? Trying to get rid of an itch. Making popping sounds with his lips? It just felt nice. He can do what he wants, bitch.

Sometimes they weren’t easy to conceal, though. Sometimes he got funny looks, people whispering as he passed, the dreaded “why are you making that noise?”. He never had an answer for that question. It wasn’t like his tics were a bad thing, something shameful he had to hide, but what was he supposed to say? “Yeah sorry, I have a neurological condition where I make movements and sounds I can’t control, sorry I didn’t tell you before.” Like that would go over well.

It was surprising to Tommy that no one had actually figured out that he had tics. Did anyone on this server actually know what tics were?

In the beginning, the early days of the server, of L’Manburg, all that had mattered was surviving. Then it was independence, victory. Winning wars, and the election. Pogtopia, surviving once again. No one had thought to ask Tommy about his tics, and Tommy hadn’t offered the information. It was a well-kept not-secret.

As time passed, Tommy’s tics came and went like the seasons, waxing and waning like the moon. During wartime, they were worse. Lack of sleep, stress, fear upped the severity and his limbs burned from suppressing them. 

Now, though, there was peace. The discs were back in Tommy’s possession, Tubbo was warm and safe and breathing and alive, and Dream was locked up in his own prison. Though, Tommy wasn’t the only person to know about his tics.

Dream knew.

He’d discovered them during Tommy’s exile. They were bad, then. Tommy had never had many word tics, but his unfamiliar surroundings, the constant anxiety and exhaustion he experienced, made them, and the rest of Tommy’s tics so much worse.

“Fuck you,” Tommy had ticced, jerking his head to the right as the words threw themselves from his mouth. He’d made a popping sound with his lips, and then Dream was fisting his shirt in his hands, pushing him against a tree threateningly.

“What did you just say to me, Tommy?” he’d asked, tone light but barely concealing malice, ground through gritted teeth.

Tommy’s eyes were wide with fear, and he’d ticced again, jerking his head as he made a popping sound with his lips again, once, twice.

“I’m sorry, Dream,” he’d apologized, voice high. “I- whoa!” he’d ticced, interrupting himself, “I have tics, I can’t control them, I’m really sorry- wow! Please don’t hit me again Dream I’m sorry!”

Dream scoffed, dropping him. “I’ll be lenient this once, don’t let it happen again.”

Tommy had nodded earnestly, despite knowing that if he had to tic that again, there wasn’t much he could do to stop it. 

And, of course, he’d ticced it again the next day. And Dream had slapped him. As he’d pressed his hand against his stinging cheek, he’d popped once, twice. He had to balance himself as his fingers came up to his ear, unbidden, and his fingernails tapped against each other.

When he’d looked up, Dream was gone. 

The days passed slower from then. Tommy got used to electricity thrumming under his skin, energy threatening to explode outwards and send him into a tic attack, pressing his lips together so hard they hurt so Dream wouldn’t hit him again.

Sometimes he was successful. But sometimes he wasn’t, and he’d tic something that upset Dream, and he’d get hit. The worst part was that Tommy couldn’t control it, and Dream knew that, but Tommy paid the price.

Logstedshire was destroyed, and Tommy was suddenly free. After his almost-suicide attempt, he’d hid under Technoblade’s basement, and joined his anarchy club. Techno hadn’t asked about Tommy’s tics; he hadn’t even seemed to notice. As Tommy recovered physically, mentally, the tics were less and less.

And then there was the destroyed community house, and Tommy had ended his and Techno’s business partnership, and L’Manburg was destroyed. He’d scream cried later, alone in his house, cries intermingled with chirps and snaps and pops. 

Days later, he’d found a double chest in his house, with a compass and a note, for him and Tubbo to follow it on the next Wednesday. Alone.

They’d gone, and they’d fought well. On the mountaintop, Tommy and Tubbo had fought together again, side by side, working together seamlessly. Tommy didn’t tic when fighting, focusing too much on the battle, on victory, and he liked the feeling of being in complete control of his body.

Then, down in that place of blackstone and obsidian and bedrock, they’d faced him again. They walked through Dream’s sick little collection of precious things. He’d mocked them, made them say goodbye, and instructed Tubbo to die.

Punz had come through, though, and with him nearly the entire server. Dream was caged, forced to admit it was he who’d destroyed the community house. Tommy had killed him twice over, leaving him with only one life left. The gathered crowd had walked through Dream’s collection and now knew what he’d planned to do. He was taken to Pandora’s Vault, the prison he had commissioned for someone else, and locked away.

The server was free. And so was Tommy.

Now, there was peace. The children whose childhoods had been taken from them, warped and soured by war and death, could finally begin to heal. Tommy and Tubbo could sit on their bench again, and listen to their discs. They could run on the prime path together, rebuild Tommy’s house when it got griefed, work on Tubbo’s secret project in Snowchester.

Tommy had actually moved there, temporarily. He wanted to be with Tubbo again. After being separated for so long, tormented and traumatized without his best friend by his side, he thought he was allowed to be a little bit clingy. 

There was one thing he’d forgotten about, though. Tubbo didn’t know about his tics. That didn’t last very long, though.

Tommy was crafting some books to make a bookshelf for Tubbo’s enchantment room. He was folding papers in the basement, allowing himself to tic freely. The ability to just let them out without fear of questioning looks, Dream’s hand on his face, was so nice to have. 

As he ticced out sounds in the back of his throat, hums and hitched, breathy sounds, popping his lips and bringing his hand to his ear sharply, snapping, he didn’t hear Tubbo descend down the ladder and watch him for a few moments, confused.

“Uh, Tommy?” Tubbo asked, furrowing his brows.

“Holy shit!” Tommy clutched his chest and spun around in fright. “You scared me, man. Jesus…”

Tubbo cracked a small smile. “You good there, man?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Tommy asked. He jerked his head to the side and let out a low whistle. Tubbo just stared.

After a moment of watching each other silently, Tubbo spoke again.

“You’re making some uh, weird sounds there, man,” he said slowly, almost as if he was unsure.

Tommy furrowed his brow for a moment, before realization dawned on him. “Oh… OH! You mean my tics,” he replied. “Yeah, they can sound weird sometimes. Sorry, was I bothering you?”

Tubbo shook his head. “No, no, I was just… what’s a tic, Tommy?”

“It’s like, a sudden movement or sound I have to make. I can’t really control them, and trying to control them for too long kind of hurts.”

Tubbo cocked his head to the side. “I don’t understand.”

Tommy brought a finger to his chin, ticcing a low hum as he thought. “Think of it as like… sneezing with your body. You can’t really control when you sneeze, you just kind of… do it. It’s really similar to that.”

Slowly, Tubbo nodded. “Oh, okay.” He paused. “Why have I never seen you tic before?”

“You have,” Tommy replied, somewhat sheepishly, “I usually try to cover them up if I’m with people.”

“Why didn’t you cover them up just now?”

“I’m tired of having to hide it, man. I just want to let them out freely for as long as I can, because I don’t know how long this peace will last, and trying to suppress tics really drains my energy.”

Tubbo shrugged. “Okay! You don’t have to hide them around me. Or anyone else, for that matter. I’ll beat up anyone who says anything about them.”

Tommy grinned, fingers snapping at his side. “Thanks, Tubbo.”

Tubbo smiled back. “Anytime, Tommy.”

Later that night, they stood on Tubbo’s porch and watched the sun set over the sea. Neither spoke, content to sit together, warm despite the cold air, Tommy’s occasional soft hums and chirps and whistles and pops breaking the silence. Tubbo appreciated the sounds, because he knew their not being suppressed meant that Tommy trusted him.

When they went to bed that night, Tubbo could hear Tommy tic from beneath the floorboards, and he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: a few scenes in which dream hits tommy for having tics, this also might trigger tics if u have them   
> tbh this really isnt even that good but i hope u enjoyed! i was deeply saddened by the lack of tourette's/tic disirder fics in the dsmp tags so i decided to project onto tommy. i have tics so i kind of tried to write tommy with similar tics to me. i hate it when ppl ask me "why r u making that noise" like idk man ask my brain. my tics are usually not that severe so thats very cool for me but it also feels like im faking sometimes which is. not poggers even tho im literally diagnosed LMAO anyways pls leave comments bc i crave validation from strangers on the internet <3


End file.
